Mail Call
by Soul Reaver
Summary: Petty Officer Coates starts corresponding with a lonely Canadian sniper in Afghanistan in the year 2002. CoatesOC.
1. Opening Words

Opening Words  
  
Disclaimer: JAG isn't mine, however, the Canadian sniper, Sergeant Rusty Puckett, is my character. I apologize for any date discrepancies, I'm not sure when Coates first appeared on the series.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
February 12, 2002  
  
Dear Petty Officer Coates,  
  
I'm sorry, I'm not Sergeant Lewis Puckett, somebody mixed up our letters. If you've even opened this letter I'll be surprised, considering it's from a complete stranger from the Canadian Armed forces. I must say I'm touched, that your office has a program to write to selected soldiers on the frontlines here in Afghanistan. Amazing that they mixed up the letters in such a royal way, but these things happened.  
  
Anyway I was on patrol last week with Sid, one of my mates in the unit in the mountains and I had this unopened letter that's been unopened in my kit for two weeks. I figured I'd best open it and explain this little foul up. I apologize in advance for any sort of discomfort this may cause. Sid suggested I open this thing anyway, saying, 'Rusty if someone's taken the pain to write you a letter you'd best read it. Even if it wasn't intended for you, the Great Spirit had it sent your way anyhow.'  
  
Sid's a Pequot Indian with a Canadian father. He's originally from Connecticut, and his folks moved up north using his Dad's citizenship to use the health system to help his ailing mother.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Sergeant Puckett.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
JAG HQ, Fall's Church, Va.  
  
Jennifer Coates sat at her desk at JAG staring at the envelope that had been put there. To her knowledge she didn't know anyone named Sergeant Puckett in the Canadian Army. And the only person with that name she knew was a 10th Mountain Division soldier with the first name of Lewis not Rusty.  
  
After staring at the letter and her computer screen alternately for the next ten minutes she decided to open it. She found the sergeant was a bit formal, a gentleman if nothing else. From his letter she could figure he was a bit of a loner by nature. If he was nice enough, albeit late, to write her even though the letter wasn't his, she was going to write back.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Kandahar, Afghanistan  
  
Rusty Puckett put his scoped M-16 rifle onto his knees and removed his heavy pack and web gear. He stood about 5'9", with close cropped black hair and intense black eyes framed in an intelligent, oval face. He was a fellow with the lean, compact build of a middleweight boxer.  
  
After spotting for their team leader, Master Sergeant Martin Shapiro, the best sniper in the unit and master hunter, he was ready to just clean his gear and sleep when something piqued his curiosity.  
  
"A letter from your mysterious benefactor, Rusty." Sid said, smiling with his mysterious Native American grin.  
  
"Damn you, you redskin bastard." Rusty grinned, tiredly. The big Pequot Indian sat on his own cot, cleaning his own rifle as he talked.  
  
Rusty opened the letter, eagerly. He wasn't used to receiving mail unless it was a bill of some sort. The last personal letter he had gotten was from Melissa when she said it was her or the Army. He'd chosen the latter, because he wasn't sure how he'd fare in civilian life. Now he was sitting in the middle of a dusty billet in Afghanistan.  
  
Gus, one of the US Marines sharing quarters with the six Canadians sniffed at the letter, "No perfume, so I guess our resident taciturn Canuck can't be seeing anyone."  
  
"Actually I am seeing someone. I believe you call her mom." Rusty said, dead pan.  
  
"Ooh, you got me good." Gus smiled, "Just remember who made that 800 meter head shot."  
  
"I distinctly recall I made two successive ones at 810 meters. Got you beat Marine." Rusty joked.  
  
"Whatever Dudley do-Right, I'll see you after I go read my letters home from the missus." Gus replied.  
  
"So what does she have to say?" Sid asked.  
  
Rusty shot the Indian a look, "Can I at least have some privacy. I'll tell you in a bit."  
  
Rusty read the letter from Coates and it read.  
  
13 February, 2002  
  
Dear Sergeant Puckett,  
  
No problem about the mix up. You don't really have to reply to this letter if you don't want to. I really thought you were being a gentleman about this whole foul up and I wanted to thank you.  
  
I'll understand if you don't send me anything in reply or if you just throw it in the trash after receiving it. Though after reading your first letter I don't think you're that sort of person, I tend to think you to be on the gentlemanly side if anything else.  
  
I just want to know what is it exactly you do in the military? And if you do decide to write, please call me Jen or Jennifer.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Petty Officer Coates  
  
"So what are you gonna do?" Sid asked.  
  
"I don't know." Rusty replied, "What should I do?"  
  
"You've been a heck of a lot less jaded since you received that letter. I mean you've never had anyone to write to when we go out." Sid replied, "I think you should write her back, see what comes of it."  
  
"You're right Sid." Rusty sighed, "I might as well."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
JAG HQ, Fall's Church, Va.  
  
"Jen, I didn't know you knew someone in Canada." Harriet remarked, when she noticed the letter that was on Jen's desk.  
  
"That Operation Penpal Program you started ma'am. My letter got mixed up and sent to a soldier in a Canadian unit. I didn't expect him to write back, but evidently he did." Jen replied.  
  
"So what's he like?" Harriet asked.  
  
"He seems like a nice guy." Jen replied,  
  
"I'll leave you to your duties, Jen." Harriet replied.  
  
Coates tried to concentrate on filing the cases that were stacked about a foot high on her desk but something was compelling her to read the letter. Sighing, she picked up the letter and opened it up, and saw a measure of sand fall onto her desk.  
  
17 February 2002  
  
Dear Jennifer,  
  
Your letter arrived today. Well, to answer your question I'm a sniper. I can't put it more plainly than that. I'm a fellow paid to shoot people for a living. And frankly I'd like to keep writing letters back and forth. It's a helpful thing to my morale out here. Besides my nosy Pequot shadow won't shut up until I've written you so thus I bow to the inevitable.  
  
Anyhoo, a little more about me. I'm twenty-three years old, from Montreal. I've been in the Army since I was seventeen. I grew up on both sides of the border, I used to live in Mississippi from when I was eleven until I was seventeen and I joined the Canadian Army. My main hobbies are medieval history and boxing.  
  
What do you do in the military? I know you're in the Navy judging from your postmarks. But what exactly do you do?  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Rusty  
  
Coates grinned, picked up a pen and started to write her response just as she heard Admiral Chegwidden shout, "Coates, please go find Commander Rabb and be sure to drop me an aspirin before he gets in here."  
  
Sighing again, Coates put the letter and her pad away safely and went to follow her order, "Yes sir."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
TBC (I'll write more as the storyline builds in my head. If anyone knows anything more about Petty Officer Coates, please put it in the reviews, because my information's a bit sketchy.) 


	2. Crosshairs

Crosshairs  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
"Range me." Rusty said to Sid, hidden at his side.  
  
"872 meters." Sid replied. Both men were prone, just below the summit of a nearby hill. Sid had put aside his telescope sighted M-16 and picked up the laser rangefinder on his belt kit.  
  
The target was a young man, no more than twenty years old. At that moment Rusty Puckett was closer than anyone on earth to his target despite their distance. He could see a face barely sporting the stubble of a beard since puberty had hardly passed. He was shooting steadily from his machinegun at the Marines in Kandahar. Rusty spotted him and he knew he would kill him. Everything was off now, the heat of the day, the feeling of the stony ground against his body, the breeze blowing lightly through the mountains. There was nothing but rifle and target for Rusty Puckett.  
  
"880 meters zero. Adjusting sight downward and...I've...got you." Rusty said, saying the last part of his statement slowly as he exhaled slowly, squeezing the trigger of the C3A1 sniper rifle. He felt the trigger break and was surprised by the recoil and the rifle bucked in his hands despite its solid position imbedded in his shoulder and connected by bipod in the ground.  
  
880 meters away a Taliban soldier that had been firing rounds from an RPK machinegun at the Marines in Kandahar fell like a pole-axed mule into the dirt. Blood erupted as the 7.62mm round tore through his neck. The enemy soldier's body was flopping and dying but his brain didn't know it yet and was sending random spasms through his nervous system.  
  
"One less terrorist on this earth." Rusty said, flatly, as he pulled back the bolt slowly and took the brass casing and stuck into his pocket. As they humped back to their bivouac a corporal passed out their mail. Rusty smiled to himself as he saw the envelope.  
  
"So what does Petty Officer Coates have to say?" Sid asked.  
  
"Let me read it first Sid. Jeez you're excited." Rusty replied.  
  
"Well this is the first time I've seen you happy about something other than the job." Sid replied.  
  
18 February 2002,  
  
Dear Rusty,  
  
Your letter arrived yesterday but I was so bogged down in work I couldn't really finish my reply until today. A sniper? Wow. That means you can hit someone from a thousand yards away with a rifle, can sneak within 200 yards of a person without them even knowing your there, and operate either by yourself or with a partner behind enemy lines.  
  
As to what my job is, I'm a YN2, or a Yeoman 2nd Class. I'm a Navy Petty Officer Second Class whose main job is paperwork and answering phones. Essentially I'm a military secretary. I'd be the equivalent of a paralegal at a law firm. Not as exciting as being a sniper, but I have my fair share of job stresses. Such as Lieutenant Singer. She saw me writing part of this letter when I had five minutes left before my lunch break and she said, 'Do it on your own time Petty Officer.'  
  
Granted I was out of line for doing something other than work, but at least three other officers and my supervisor, Gunnery Sergeant Galindez, walked by without saying anything. Put it this way, look up backstabber in the dictionary and you'll find this woman's picture right next to it.  
  
Anyway, I guess my million dollar question is, why did you join up? And why did you pick the job of sniper? I'm guessing that you didn't just pick the field because it sounded cool. From what I've heard, sniper school is pretty tough and only the most dedicated make it through. So those guys who join out of a sense of machismo are the first to quit, according to what I've read.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Jennifer  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
JAG HQ, Falls Church, Va.  
  
Jen was busily filing another case file when Commander Harmon Rabb approached the desk, "Jen, do you know where I might find the Morrison case file?"  
  
"Right here sir." Jen replied, handing it to Rabb with a smile.  
  
"I see your Canadian friend wrote you again." Harm replied.  
  
"Yes sir." Jen replied, "He seems like a nice guy from what I see."  
  
"Have a good day, Jen." Harm replied.  
  
"You too sir." Jen replied, and opened up the letter on her desk. She smiled as she read Rusty's words.  
  
22 February 2002  
  
Dear Jennifer,  
  
Your letter arrived today. Let's put it this way, because of my actions today the Taliban is short a man. I can't say anything more than that for the sake of operational security. This Lieutenant Singer fellow sounds like she'd get along well with my foster family. The six years I spent in Mississippi were with a Mrs. Lowanda Dumore, the name still makes me cringe. Now I wasn't hit at all or anything of that sort. The abuse I took left its marks inside me. She often acted as if my best efforts weren't good enough for her. The woman went through seven marriages that failed. She was wealthy, kept her age well, but she showed me beauty isn't found outside, it's from within.  
  
What does this have to do with anything? Well as soon as I was able I signed up with the Canadian Army and said good riddance to Mrs. Lowanda Dumore and haven't looked back ever since.  
  
Why I chose the job of sniper? It was three years after I joined up. I got tired of being just a small cog in the big machine that was my battalion, my rifle company. I volunteered for the sniper training course as soon as a sergeant told me about the benefits of the trade, that I would be allowed more freedom of action and responsibility at a lower rank than I would ever in the rifle company. So with three years left on my contract I attended the sniper training course as an E-4.  
  
So what was your family life like? I understand if you don't want to tell me, I'm just curious. Well on a more benign note what made you join up? What do you like to do in your spare time?  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Rusty  
  
"Sergeant Puckett wrote you again?" Mac asked as Jen delivered a file she'd requested.  
  
"Yes ma'am." Jen replied, "How'd you guess?"  
  
"Easy, the fact that you've got a folded piece of stationary that's been out in the desert sun for a while in your hand." Mac replied, "Good to see you're still doing your job."  
  
"Thank you ma'am. The letters are a nice distraction from the daily grind." Jen replied.  
  
"They do help for morale. When Harm was on the Patrick Henry to go back to flying we used to write and e-mail a lot. They helped me get through a lot around here." Mac replied.  
  
"Apparently Lieutenant Singer doesn't share your sentiment." Jen replied.  
  
"Well, I can see she doesn't like you because she still thinks you stole her bracelet." Mac replied, "But if the lieutenant gives you anymore trouble, let me know."  
  
"Yes ma'am." Jen replied.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
TBC 


	3. Message in a Bottle

Message in a Bottle  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
RD – Thanks for the technical notes, I should've researched a little more thoroughly. The magazine where I read about the Canadian snipers in Afghanistan, Soldier of Fortune, didn't mention JTF2 so I figured they were from an ordinary infantry unit. I'm a student with an ROTC unit myself in the US military.  
  
Lady Patriot – I've read your Coates fic, it's what planted the idea in my head that I should write one.  
  
Tracy – Thanks for the Intel.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Kandahar, Afghanistan  
  
25 February 2002  
  
Dear Rusty,  
  
Your letter arrived yesterday but unfortunately it was a busy day and I didn't have time to finish my reply. I'm sorry to hear that you had such a terrible childhood, but you seem to have turned out alright. One of the officers I really look up to, Colonel Mackenzie (she's a Marine), had a rough time growing up too. She's as tough as they come, she's like Wonder Woman, but her main weakness is a certain Commander Harmon Rabb. He's a lawyer who's also a qualified Navy pilot. An odd combination, but he and 'Mac' as she insists I call her outside the office, are very much in love with each other. I can't figure out why they haven't gotten together yet.  
  
I also had class last night too. I go to night school and am working on a degree in psychology. I had to go to the library too, to research on my term paper on neurotic disorders. Have you thought about education beyond secondary level?  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Jennifer  
  
Rusty smiled to himself as he sat under the shade of a gnarled sapling, one of the few trees growing in the Afghan mountains. His sunglasses were propped smoothly atop his head as he read the latest letter from Jennifer. He imagined what she looked like, and for some reason he imagined her to be around his age, maybe younger by a year or so. He couldn't imagine a face, but seeing she was an admin clerk a certain image started to form. He could just picture a dour, humorless, bespectacled typist but for some reason he had a hard time equating the image to Jennifer.  
  
"Wouldn't it be nice if she were as beautiful as her penmanship." Rusty mused aloud.  
  
"Then ask her to send a picture." Martin Shapiro, USMC, the Master Sergeant sharing tent facilities with the Canadians, said.  
  
"Sorry Top, I didn't see you." Rusty replied.  
  
"So Petty Officer Coates wrote you again?" Shapiro replied.  
  
"Yes Top, she did." Rusty replied.  
  
"If you wonder what the girl looks like, ask her to send you a snapshot." Shapiro replied, and ambled off, his M40A1 tucked under his arm.  
  
"She's probably some older lady with really pale skin from not seeing the sun at all." Sid teased as he walked by, his M-16 slung over his shoulder.  
  
"Very funny." Rusty replied as he shifted his own M-16 and began to write his reply.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
JAG HQ, Fall's Church, Va.  
  
'It's Tuesday, but why does it feel like Monday right now.' Petty Officer Coates thought as she carried a stack of files from both Colonel Mackenzie and Commander Rabb.  
  
Tiner fell into step beside her, "Jen, let me carry that for you."  
  
"It's OK, Jason, really." Coates smiled. Tiner was like the brother she never had growing up, they'd become friends recently but what with Tiner being due to going to OCS they decided not to go any further.  
  
"So Rusty wrote you again." Tiner replied, "What did he say?"  
  
"I didn't read his letter yet, Jason, but yes he did write me. Funny, you'd never expect this sort of thing to result from a postal mishap." Coates replied, "But I'm glad whoever screwed up and sent the letter Rusty's way did what he or she did."  
  
"He sounds like a nice guy." Tiner remarked, "If a little spooky, I mean it's kinda unnerving knowing that the guy can blow someone's head off at distances of up to a mile away."  
  
"Tiner." Coates scolded, smiling, despite the weight of the files in her arms.  
  
"Am I interrupting anything?" a gruff male voice sounded behind the two petty officers.  
  
"No sir." Both Coates and Tiner said.  
  
"It's always fun to have personal chats, but remember my maxim, on your own time." Admiral Chegwidden began. He gave Coates a two millimeter smile, "I see your Canadian friend wrote again. Be sure to tell him that I hope the Toronto Raptors have a bad season."  
  
"Yes sir." Coates replied. Chegwidden walked back into his office as Coates and Tiner went about their business.  
  
Twenty minutes later Tiner walked by Coates' desk when she motioned him aside, "Jason can you help me with something?"  
  
"Certainly Jen, anything." Tiner replied. He always regarded Coates as the little sister he never had growing up, and he was willing to do almost anything for her.  
  
"Could you help me decide what picture to send?" Coates asked. It was a decision between an official uniform portrait and another portrait picture of Jen that was about a couple years old.  
  
"The one in uniform." Tiner replied, after a brief hesitation.  
  
"Don't you think that's a bit severe?" Jen asked.  
  
"It brings out your eyes." Tiner replied.  
  
"Won't Lucy be upset with you for talking to me like that?" Coates teased. Tiner was dating a law student from Georgetown he'd met in class a few months ago.  
  
"She knows we're just friends." Tiner replied, suddenly feeling like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, "Well I've got to get the Baxter case file to Commander Rabb."  
  
"OK, see you later Jason." Coates replied as she reread the letter and again blushed.  
  
27 February 2002  
  
Dear Jennifer,  
  
Well, in answering your question I do have a few credits in a degree in literature. I actually happen to read at a college senior level. So you see, I'm not just some dumb grunt. I've actually been wondering what you look like. So could you please send me a picture? You don't have to if you don't want to, I mean you could just send me a card that says piss off on it.  
  
For some reason the guys in my unit have been kidding me about me writing some, 'old, pale, bespectacled typist.' The most notorious are the Marines that share our billet. Particularly Gus. Don't get me wrong, he's a good guy, I like working with him, but he can get on my nerves about this. On a personal note I happen to think you're around my age at the oldest, maybe a year younger and quite attractive.  
  
If there's a boot print on this letter it's because we had a mortar attack when I wrote this. Sid, my spotter, stepped on the letter as we ran outside to man the wire. He dived into the trench only run headfirst into the butt of an M240G light machinegun that the Marines put out to defend the compound. He's sporting a bruise under his left eye and a very sour expression right now.  
  
Regards,  
  
Rusty  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
TBC (Any ideas on how they should first meet, face to face?) 


	4. Once More Into the Breach

Once More Into the Breach  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before. A little AU-ish in terms of Harm/Mac.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
3 March 2002  
  
Dear Rusty,  
  
Enclosed is the picture you asked for. I hope you don't mind that it's my service portrait. My friend, Tiner, said it brings out my eyes and therefore I should send it to you. I was most certainly flattered by your presumptions of me. I'm twenty-three years old on the 12th of March, I'm about 5'7", and fairly slim figured. So I'd guess you were right on the money.  
  
Anyway, tell Sid I'd have sent him an ice pack in the mail but it'd melt by the time it reached Afghanistan. Tell him not to be so sour, people have clumsy moments all the time. Some more than others. Such as Lieutenant Roberts, he's a lawyer who works at my office. Some days I swear he was born without an inner ear, yesterday he tripped over an extension cord (we're doing some minor reconstruction in the building so the contractors are everywhere), while reading a file and he literally somersaulted across the floor end over end. It was hilarious.  
  
He's the biggest sweetheart, next to Tiner of course, but he can be a bit clumsy at times. Before you accuse me of frat, he has a wife he loves, a two-year-old son, and a suburban house complete with minivan and white picket fence. I'm not the sort to go chasing around a married man.  
  
I totally forgot to answer your question about why I went into the Navy. (Blame that on a combination of a term paper, an upcoming exam, and a hectic week at the office). I enlisted because it was either the US Navy or a jail cell. I had a juvenile record (an embarrassment for a minister's daughter, certainly). Since I had no desire to wind up being fresh meat for a big obnoxious cellmate named Rina who probably can bench press the body weight of most men I chose the Navy. Anyway, my term paper still beckons.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Jennifer  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Shar-I-Kot, Afghanistan  
  
Rusty Puckett put the letter into his belt kit as he lugged over a hundred pounds of gear on his back over the mountains. In a bit of American/Canadian cooperation, Gus, one of the Marine snipers armed with an M82A1 .50 sniper rifle, accompanied him and Sid. Rusty carried his bolt action C3A1 and eight spare clips of six rounds apiece together with a 9mm pistol and seven magazines. Sid lugged the radio as well as his own pack and a telescope sighted M-16 as well as the spotter scope.  
  
Jennifer was certainly cute, even in uniform, and he was willing to bet she was absolutely beautiful when she was in civvies. He had enjoyed showing the picture to the guys in the bivouac who'd thought otherwise. But he nearly lost a stripe for beating up some jerk off Marine named Bailey who'd tried to take it from him. That picture was laminated and attached by a bit of paracord to his webbing, right next to his spare magazines.  
  
The snipers were hunting Taliban and al Qaeda mortar units that were becoming a problem for the 101st Airborne operating in Afghanistan. No sooner had they built their hide and camouflaged it then a radio call came in. Sid got on the spotter scope and said, "I've got a couple mortar tubes, 81mm, near the mouth of that cave we marked last week. They're about 2026 meters off."  
  
"I've got the guy with the mortar rounds." Gus said.  
  
"Right, I'll go drop the guy doing the firing calculations." Rusty replied.  
  
"Fire on my mark." Sid said, "Rusty, correct for a 5 mph wind, coming due east."  
  
"Right." Rusty replied, making the clicks on his telescopic sight.  
  
"Gus, make sure you're correcting for that too. Your guy's stationary at 2025 meters. Rusty, yours is also stationary. Ready? Fire." Sid replied.  
  
Both men squeezed the triggers slowly, exhaling evenly, remaining calm and detached and surprising themselves with the trigger break of their weapons, being relaxed enough to absorb the recoil. Simultaneously two al-Qaeda fighters dropped. The first, the one Gus shot, literally lost his head as the heavy bullet tore it off. The second fell with a smaller, but no less deadly, hole through his forehead as Rusty's 7.62mm bullet struck home.  
  
The third mortar man picked up his RPK machinegun and fired wildly downrange hoping to kill whoever just bushwhacked two of his mates. He caught two bullets, one from Gus and the other from Rusty. Rusty's bullet struck him solidly in the head, causing him to spin in a pirouette of death. A half-second later Gus' round arrived, completely obliterating his heart and most of his torso with the half-inch bullet.  
  
The two more men manning the 81mm turned to flee, only to run right into the path of a 101st Airborne Division patrol that was about to rush their position. One of the two surrendered, the other was killed trying to resist.  
  
Rusty didn't rejoice in killing the two he had shot. He knew it was necessary to save the lives of allied forces, but he didn't relish it. He was a sniper, a soldier that was his trade, to kill hostile forces. He still felt a sense of satisfaction that he had saved the lives of more than a few of the 101st Airborne who were transporting their captive back to a waiting Chinook.  
  
It had been a long, hard fought ten days, and Rusty smiled tiredly when he saw another three man sniper team, from his own unit, coming stealthily up the hill. Rusty put the half-finished reply to Jennifer into one of his magazine pouches and humped back down the hill.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
12 March 2002  
  
Dear Jennifer,  
  
Belated happy birthday, because I'm not sure when I can send this. I can't exactly say what I've been up to, but let's just say I've been very busy. Sid says, 'Thanks for your sympathy'.  
  
I laminated that picture you sent when I took our maps in for lamination at HQ. I burnt a hole through the corner and tied it to my belt kit with a length of paracord. Hopefully Tiner doesn't mind. He was right though, that picture does bring out your eyes. A bunch of the guys in the bivouac were put in place when they realized you weren't some 'older bat with reading specs hunched over a computer'. I hope you don't mind me doing that either.  
  
Anyway, I've got a lot more observation to do training to keep up and the like. I again wish you a happy birthday.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Rusty  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
McMurphy's  
  
Jennifer Coates, at the behest of practically everyone at JAG, walked into McMurphy's pub and towards the table that the JAG staff typically reserved on their get togethers at the place. She originally had told Tiner she couldn't come, because of that term paper. Not ten minutes later, Colonel Mackenzie had insisted she come along. Five minutes later Commander Rabb said the same thing. Then Sturgis stopped by and made the offer again. Followed by Gunny, Lieutenant Roberts, Tiner again, and then Harriet. It finally was cemented that she would make a brief appearance when the Admiral suggested she come by.  
  
"SURPRISE!" came the shout, "Happy Birthday Jen."  
  
Jennifer smiled, as her eyes widened in surprise. It was her birthday. She totally forgot. Between the term paper, an upcoming exam in her class, work, and watching news reports on the Afghanistan situation she'd forgotten her own birthday.  
  
A birthday cake came out with a big twenty three in candles lit atop it. Tears of joy filled her eyes as she blew out the cake, which had the scrolling, "Happy Birthday and Welcome to JAG Jennifer Coates" upon it.  
  
Harm and Mac had stopped their latest bickering in order to plan this surprise party. Harm chose the location and Mac picked the cake. Jennifer had noticed that throughout the week they would often go into each other's offices, close the door, and argue about something. The tension between them was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Jennifer also noticed they'd stop arguing whenever she'd get too close to them. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks, they were involved, largely, in planning this whole thing.  
  
"Very well done, if I must say." Admiral Chegwidden began.  
  
"Thank you sir." Harm replied.  
  
"Harm, for the last time, outside of the office, in civvies it's AJ."  
  
"No thanks to somebody almost compromising us." Mac began.  
  
"Mac." Harm began, dragging out the 'a' in the middle whenever they were in the midst of an argument of sorts.  
  
"Harm, I need to talk to you." Mac replied, as they both walked outside.  
  
"I don't get it." Sturgis began, "He's interested, she's interested. What's wrong with them?"  
  
"You've got me, sir," Bud began, "I've been trying to figure that out for years."  
  
Jennifer decided she needed some fresh air, all this surprise was just too much to take. She walked outside to clear her head only to find Harm and Mac engaged in a passionate kiss outside.  
  
After about a minute, Tiner, worried about where his friend might have gone off too, excused himself and walked out front to witness the same scene. He and Jen stood there with their jaws hanging down.  
  
"Jennifer, Jason, are you guys...?" Harriet began, and shocked and delighted, she saw Harm and Mac part lips finally.  
  
"Mac, I honestly didn't know we drew an audience." Harm began.  
  
Mac playfully punched him on the arm, saying sweetly, "Harm, what do you expect when you kiss a girl in public?"  
  
"A little privacy." Harm replied.  
  
"You're an idiot, a cute idiot, but an idiot nonetheless." Mac began as they walked back inside.  
  
Everyone saw Harm take Mac's hand at one point during the evening. The tension between them seemed gone, replaced by something new.  
  
"I guess they worked it out." Sturgis began.  
  
"Harm," Chegwidden sternly began, "you and Mac had best keep this out of the office."  
  
His tone softened as he said, "I'm happy for you."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
TBC 


	5. Badal

Badal  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
17 March 2002  
  
Dear Rusty,  
  
Your letter actually arrived two days ago. I understand about the hectic conditions. The news seems to be indicating you guys are busy. I just want you to know I hope your safe.  
  
I'm flattered about the picture, really, I am. Now I wonder do you have any pictures of yourself lying around? I would like a copy so I see what you look like. I thought it was funny how your bunkmates reacted.  
  
You won't believe this, but those two officers I told you about, Harm and Mac, finally acted on their feelings. Interestingly enough it was my birthday when this happened. I walked outside for some fresh air, because I was so wrapped up in work that I forgot it was my birthday, then when I walked outside I saw them kissing each other underneath a street lamp. Everyone said, "It's about time." Or words to that effect. Even my CO was happy for them.  
  
About Tiner, he and I are just friends. We tried dating but felt too weird. He's going to OCS soon and coming back a lawyer. We're more like brother and sister now. I'm not really seeing anybody right now. What about you? Is there a special lady in your life? If there is I hope she doesn't mind my letters.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Jennifer  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Afghanistan  
  
Rusty smiled as he handed a couple crackers from his MRE to a one legged youth, about eight years old, he seemed to have lost a limb from the profusion of landmines the Soviets and other parties had been throwing around Afghanistan for decades.  
  
"You are a doctor?" a woman in the village, presumably the boy's mother asked.  
  
"No." Rusty replied, "I'm just a regular soldier. What happened to him?"  
  
"My son lost his leg because of Badal." The woman replied.  
  
"Badal?" Rusty asked.  
  
"Badal is vengeance against one's foes at all costs." The Afghani woman replied, "Our village supported a revolt against the Taliban months ago. Because of that they bombarded our village with artillery. My son's leg was crushed by a stone block and it had to be removed."  
  
'What kind of bastards...' Rusty thought as he got back into the truck with the bag of fresh fruit he had been ordered to purchase.  
  
"Hey Rusty, are you alright?" Sid asked.  
  
"Yeah Sid, I'm fine." Rusty replied.  
  
"You don't seem fine." Sid observed.  
  
"What kind of bastards bombard a village with artillery?" Rusty said.  
  
"Rusty, your people did the same things and worst against the Indian tribes." Sid replied, "Anyway, that's the nature of the beast. That's why we're here, to try and put an end to these Taliban bastards."  
  
"Yeah, I guess your right." Rusty replied, "I believe in the reasons we're here. But I never realize how vicious the Taliban are until I saw that poor kid."  
  
Rusty and Sid got out of the truck with bags of fresh fruit to supplement their rations in the base. Both of them had telescope sighted M-16s with Rusty armed with a 9mm sidearm as well and Sid having an M-203 grenade launcher bolted under his rifle.  
  
"What did Jennifer say today, Rusty?" Sid replied.  
  
"She was flattered about the picture I keep hanging off my belt kit." Rusty replied.  
  
"She's stationed in Falls Church you say?" Sid replied, at Rusty's nod, he said, "Hey you go down with me to my Grandma's almost every break, why don't you go pay her a visit as soon as we're out of this Godforsaken land."  
  
Rusty sat under his favorite shade tree and started composing his letter, his M-16 in his lap.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Falls Church, Va.  
  
"You read my mind, Harm." Mac replied, warmly as Harm handed her a cup of coffee.  
  
"If I could then I wouldn't have to ask where that tattoo of yours is located and where it is." Harm replied.  
  
Jennifer Coates smiled as she approached them, then ever the dutiful Petty Officer she said, "Sir, Ma'am, the Jorgenson case you asked for."  
  
"Thank you Jen." Mac replied, and noticing the letter in Jennifer's arms she said, "He wrote you again?"  
  
"Yes ma'am." Jennifer replied. She walked out of the break room and headed back into the bullpen where Tiner fell into step beside her.  
  
"So he wrote you again?" Tiner asked.  
  
"He did." Jennifer replied, "So have you and Lucy decided whether she's gonna move into your place yet?"  
  
"No, not really." Tiner replied, "What about you, have you been on any dates since Chris..."  
  
At Jennifer's sad expression Tiner said, "Hey, I'm sorry I brought that up. I know you love him but he was such a jerk to you. You were right to ditch him."  
  
"I've been on dates," Jennifer replied, with a small grin, "With my text books and term paper for my class."  
  
"If you need to talk..." Tiner replied.  
  
"I know, thank you Jason." Jennifer replied as she opened the letter. She saw a picture of a couple of men wearing British desert camouflage (only the Canadian snipers had desert cammies in Afghanistan). One of them was of Native American origins, wearing sunglasses and a floppy bush hat carrying a scope sighted M-16. The other was a Caucasian wearing a peaked German Army field cap with his British cammies and carrying an M-16 with a scope.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
21 March 2002  
  
Dear Jennifer,  
  
Your letter arrived today. I hope that the picture I put in made it in one piece. It's the only one I have on me. I'm the guy on the right. The red skin in the picture is none other than Sid. I'm the guy with the German Army field cap atop my head. I got it two years ago when I spent some time at the Alpine Guide's course in Germany. I learned mountaineering, climbing on snow and ice, and mountain rescue work.  
  
Afghanistan is a land torn apart by strife, as you can see. But nothing can prepare you for the effects. When we went to a nearby village to buy fruit to supplement our rations I saw a ten-year-old boy missing a leg. It happened when the Taliban bombarded his village with artillery for supporting the Northern Alliance. That's why we're here I guess, to stop them from doing that again. What kind of bastards would do that sort of thing? Sorry, I needed to get that off my chest.  
  
To answer your question, no I'm not seeing anyone currently. So no one really minds that I'm writing you. Three years ago I was seeing someone. Her name was Melissa, and she seemed, on the surface, to be a sweet and caring young woman. I was wrong, though, she had a tendency to be wishy washy, never knowing what she wanted. She played me like a fiddle for half of the six years I've been in the Army before I said to hell with it and left. What about you? I refuse to believe a woman like you could remain single for long?  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Rusty  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
TBC 


	6. Tis Better to Have Loved

Tis Better to Have Loved...  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
JAG HQ, Fall's Church, Va.  
  
Jennifer Coates blushed slightly when she read Rusty's letter. Sure they'd never seen one another face to face or even heard each other's voices but it was one of the nicest things she'd ever heard in a while.  
  
"I see somebody's pen pal is choosing to up the ante." Harriet said to Jennifer as she walked by.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, the files you requested are in my outbox." Jennifer replied.  
  
"Don't be, just as long as you're doing your job," Harriet began, as she leafed through a file, finding it to her satisfaction, "And you are, it shouldn't be a problem. I wish my other volunteers for Operation Pen Pal were as happy with their assigned person as you are."  
  
"Technically, ma'am, Rusty wasn't my assigned person. My letter for Sgt. Lewis Puckett got mixed up and sent to the Canadians." Jennifer replied.  
  
"He seems like a nice guy, from what you say." Harriet replied, "What did he say this time?"  
  
"Well ma'am, he said that, 'I refuse to believe a woman like you could remain single for long.' I take that as a compliment, and he at least finds me somewhat attractive." Jennifer replied.  
  
Harriet got a smile on her face as she walked off; the short conversation with Coates was long enough to get ideas planted in her brain stem. As she walked by Harm and Mac who had observed the entire exchange, both of them recognized the scheming look on the face of a certain lieutenant.  
  
"Now that we've gotten together it seems that Harriet's found someone else to play matchmaker for." Harm grinned, his right hand 'accidentally' brushing against Mac's.  
  
"Harriet does love her matchmaking." Mac replied, "But whatever her pen pal wrote it had to be good to make Jennifer blush like that..."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
25 March 2002  
  
Dear Rusty,  
  
Your letter arrived yesterday and I absolutely loved it. I really think that is honestly one of the sweetest things I've read. I'm really sorry to hear about Melissa, honestly from reading what you've written me, she seems to be the real loser in this. I dated a guy named Chris for a couple years before meeting Tiner and my friends at JAG. He was pretty sweet at first then he started getting jealous and possessive of me, even started chasing off my friends that were guys. He even threatened Tiner when he came by my apartment two days ago. (Tiner was helping me move some furniture around.)  
  
Anyway, he was really mad that I chose to leave him because of how he started to treat me. He gave me a bruise on the arm the night before I walked out on him before last Christmas, and that was enough for me.  
  
Well, I hope you're alright. I've been reading the paper about Afghanistan and all the fighting going on. I'd really like to meet in person one day, if that's possible.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Jennifer  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Kandahar, Afghanistan  
  
"That lousy bastard!" Rusty exclaimed.  
  
"This must be good." Sid replied as he joined Rusty with a metal tray full of the first fresh food the soldiers in the encampment had in days.  
  
Rusty sighed, knowing Sid wasn't about to give up when he was curious about these things, "Her ex-boyfriend was a real loser. He bruised her arm pretty bad the night before she left him last December. He even threatened her best friend when he showed up at her apartment." Rusty replied.  
  
"Somebody's getting protective here." Gus chimed in as he took a seat atop an empty ammo case next to Rusty and Sid.  
  
"Wouldn't you get upset at a guy who left bruises on his girlfriend?" Rusty replied.  
  
"Uh, not really, not unless I had a thing for the girl." Gus said, and a slow smile formed on his face.  
  
"She's just a friend you idiot! I've never even talked to her face to face. For all I know that portrait could be a fake." Rusty replied, turning beet red.  
  
"All the same, you've been carrying it about for the past few weeks." Sid replied.  
  
"She's just a friend." Rusty protested.  
  
"Yeah, but how many friends cause you to get all riled up whenever you hear about them having abusive boyfriends?" Gus added.  
  
"Gus, what if the girl in question was your mother, your sister, your best friend...? You'd be pissed too." Rusty replied.  
  
"Ah the sweet sounds of a man infatuated." Sid chuckled.  
  
Rusty finished eating and went off to the shade of his favorite tree to write his response to Jennifer's letter. As much as he hated to admit it he hadn't felt this way about a woman in a long time, since Melissa. But this was different. He'd never seen Jennifer face to face; they'd only known each other through correspondence. It was just that Jennifer seemed so warm, so caring, so accessible despite the thousands of miles separating them.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
31 March 2002  
  
Dear Jennifer,  
  
Your letter arrived today. I really think you did the right thing leaving that scumbag Chris. It was his loss, not yours, because if he treats someone like you that way, he's a moron. An honest to goodness, general issue moron is what he is. Sorry, I'm rambling, but I really have a low opinion of guys who'd do that. I really think that a woman should be treated, well, like a lady. Opening doors for her, giving her a home cooked meal by candlelight every now and again, paying for her ticket and share of dinner should you eat out. That's how one should treat a lady.  
  
Yeah I'm all for meeting someday. The trouble is I don't know when exactly we'll be relieved, but rest assured I'll let you know.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Rusty  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
TBC 


	7. Personal Stuff

Personal Stuff  
  
Disclaimer: Same as before. I don't own Morris Day and the Time's Jungle Love.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
JAG HQ, Fall's Church, Va  
  
Jennifer Coates drove down the Interstate, with Tiner sitting next to her. A big box for all of Tiner's stuff was in the back seat. In another week Tiner was due to report to OCS. They drove in the comfortable silence of two close friends, the sounds of the engine and the radio playing.  
  
"And for Jason in Fall's Church, All Rock 106.6 presents Morris Day and the Time, Jungle Love." Said the announcer.  
  
Jennifer broke into a smile, "Jason, you didn't..."  
  
"Yeah, I did," Tiner said, shyly, "It's my favorite song."  
  
Jennifer Coates broke into a broad smile, "I still can't believe you got me to watch that immature, utterly wacky movie, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back."  
  
"Oh c'mon Jen, it's hilarious." Tiner replied, "Plus I've had that song in my head all week."  
  
"Two stoners going after Hollywood, running into an uber feminist terrorist organization, with about forty not so subtle gay jokes wedged inside isn't what I'd call hilarious." Jennifer replied.  
  
"Shh, Jen, the song's starting." Tiner replied.  
  
"Ooh ooh ooh, aah aah aah aah." Tiner started singing along, not very well, with Morris Day.  
  
"Jason, I should have brought a tape recorder in here...Wait a minute, I do happen to have one." Jennifer smiled. Tiner was so busy singing along and dancing around in the passenger seat he didn't hear her.  
  
Jennifer dug a tape recorder she used to record her lectures in class. She began to record as Tiner started swaying from side to side, looking for all the world like he'd been electrocuted.  
  
"I, I've been watching you. I think I want to know ya (know ya). I said I am a little dangerous. Girl I want to show ya (show ya)." Tiner sang, using his McDonald's Styrofoam coffee cup as an impromptu microphone, he didn't see the tape recorder Jennifer had placed between them.  
  
"You, you've got a pretty car. I think I want to drive it (dive it). I, I drive a little dangerous. Take you to my crib and crib you up, huh. (Jungle love)." Tiner continued singing until Jennifer tapped him on the side.  
  
"Jason, we're at HQ, unless you want the gate guards to hear your rendition of Morris Day and the Time you'd best quit dancing." Jennifer replied.  
  
"Oh, sorry." Tiner replied, smoothing his uniform as Jennifer parked her car and both of them walked into the building.  
  
As the day wore on Admiral Chegwidden was experimenting with a new management technique Meredith had come up with. He tape recorded every conversation he had with his staff, and according to Meredith he was supposed to listen to the playback and analyze how he could have better handled the situation. He thought the idea was absurd of course, but he couldn't say no to the bright gleam in her eyes, just like the last time.  
  
As the day wore on, he lost the tape recorder around lunch time; he had recorded a conversation with Commander Rabb and Commander Turner earlier that morning he wanted to play back. He found what appeared to be his tape recorder on Coates' desk and went into his office.  
  
About five minutes later the shout of, "TINER!" could be heard across the bullpen.  
  
"Sir, Petty Officer Tiner reporting as ordered."  
  
"Come aboard." Chegwidden said, he looked as if he'd just eaten a cinder block and had to digest the results, "Tiner, did you just record over my last meeting with this bit of material..."  
  
The Admiral hit the play button and Tiner's recorded voice sounded through the confines of the office, "Ooh ooh ooh, aah aah aah aah."  
  
"Sir," came a knock at the door, "Petty Officer Coates, requesting permission to come aboard."  
  
"Coates, unless this is an emergency not now." Chegwidden replied.  
  
"Sir, I believe this is yours." Coates said, holding the door ajar and holding out an identical tape recorder.  
  
"Tiner," Chegwidden said, "I believe apologies are in order."  
  
"No harm was done sir." Tiner replied. After Jennifer and the Admiral exchanged their respective recorders, the bullpen settled into its normal routine as Jennifer wrote another letter.  
  
"Oh and Tiner, one more thing, do us a favor..." Chegwidden began.  
  
"What's that, sir?" Tiner replied.  
  
"Don't quit the Navy and try to be a singer." Chegwidden replied with a two millimeter grin.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
4 April 2002  
  
Dear Rusty,  
  
From your letter I see Melissa was an idiot to leave you. How could she refuse such a devoted and caring guy? That is beyond me. I mean we've only known each other a little over a month, but I can't see how a woman could be so narrow minded. Chris was like that when we first started dating but then things started to badly for him. We met after boot camp. He got turned down for AOCS (Aviation Officer's Candidate School), and afterward started drinking. His career started to become more important than our relationship. Sometimes I miss the old Chris, but then I remember why I left him. It was a good reason to leave but I feel so lonely though.  
  
Anyway, something funny happened on the way to work today. Jason requested the song Jungle Love by Morris Day and the Time over the phone. They played it on our way to work and Jason got so caught up in singing along with it he didn't realize I'd tape recorded him with the recorder I usually use to take notes in my Psychiatric Disorders class, because my professor talks to quickly otherwise. Anyway the Admiral thought my tape recorder was his and wasn't very amused when he heard a recording of Jason's not so melodious singing.  
  
To make a long story short I managed to convince him the tape recorder wasn't his and that he had mine. The Admiral finished his tirade with a small joke, "Tiner, do us a favor, don't ever quit the Navy to become a singer."  
  
On a lighter note, what's your favorite song? Or artist if you don't have a favorite song?  
  
Regards,  
  
Jennifer  
  
P.S. I hope we get a chance to meet soon. It'll be fun to talk in person for the first time.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Kandahar, Afghanistan  
  
"High and to the right." Rusty said.  
  
Sid adjusted his telescopic sight again and squeezed off another shot. "High and to the right." Rusty replied.  
  
Sid adjusted another two clicks and squeezed off another round. "Direct hit, three hundred meters." Rusty replied. Sid had zeroed his Parker Hale C3A1 sniper rifle and as the two snipers policed their brass, they headed for the humvee that would take them back to their encampment from the firing range.  
  
"Hey Puckett," Gus said, "You got another letter from your favorite sailor."  
  
"Funny Gus, other than Doc she's the only sailor I know." Rusty replied, "And she's a lot prettier too."  
  
"I'm insulted." HM2 Fulcher said from behind the wheel of the humvee. He was the Navy Corpsman assigned to the STA (Scout Target Acquisition) platoon of Marine snipers teaming up with the Canadians. His job was treating wounded personnel.  
  
"Well you don't keep any other sailor's picture hanging from your belt kit." Sid replied, as he put his floppy bush hat back on his head after rubbing a handful of water from his canteen around his head.  
  
"Jesus, you look like Rommel with that German cap." Fulcher quipped, "You've been wearing that since this deployment started."  
  
"It's my good luck piece." Rusty replied, "Kind of a souvenir after I spent almost a year in Germany..."  
  
"Yodeling through the Alps and drinking good beer, and enjoying the pleasures of an amorous German girl or two." Sid replied.  
  
"Ha ha, far from it. I climbed over snow and ice, negotiated narrow mountain trails and learned the fine art of mountain survival." Rusty replied.  
  
"Whatever, Herr Rommel." Fulcher remarked as they drove off.  
  
As they humped back into the camp Rusty began to write his letter after taking his traditional place under his favorite tree.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
8 April 2002  
  
Dear Jennifer,  
  
Your letter arrived today. Again the Marines we share quarters with decided to rib me about my, 'favorite sailor'. Aside from HM2 Fulcher, the corpsman, I don't know any other sailors. And I said that you were by far the most beautiful of the two. Amazing, you send me a funny story from your life in the States and I counter with one of my own.  
  
I'm looking forward to meeting you as well. It so happens Sid's grandmother lives in Virginia Beach and we're both taking some leave to go visit her. She loves spoiling me and Sid rotten even though we're grown men. I always gain a few too many pounds and ounces in body weight at their house. I'll let you know as soon as we get some leave time. What's your phone number so I can give you a call?  
  
As to my favorite song, that would be a toss between Can't Stop Loving You, Dance Into the Light, and I Can't Dance, all by the most brilliant artist of the 20th Century, Phil Collins. Melissa always compared me to the guy from American Psycho because I'm a huge Phil Collins fanatic. Sid loves ribbing me about that too, whenever I'm lying on my cot listening to my walkman full of Phil Collins tapes.  
  
Hope to See You Soon,  
  
Rusty  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Jennifer's Apartment:  
  
"Hey Jen." Said one of her room mates, Kara, "Chris stopped by and said he wanted to talk."  
  
"Did you tell him I'm not interested in taking him back?" Jennifer said.  
  
"I said you'd get back to him." Kara replied.  
  
'Roommates.' Jennifer thought with a sigh, 'Tell them one thing and they do the exact opposite.'  
  
"If he does come back again, tell him I've had it with him and his games." Jennifer replied, "Let Naomi know that too."  
  
"OK." Kara replied, "Oh, I see your Canadian friend wrote you again."  
  
Jennifer had Rusty's last letter in her hand. Kara smiled, that was the first time Jennifer had been really happy about talking to a guy in a long time. She always read Rusty's letters, and even re-read the old ones. They were all in a neat stack by her bedside table. Jennifer quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater, grabbed a light jacket and her purse, keys, and books and headed back downstairs to her car.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~  
  
TBC 


End file.
